Namesake

Third grade me walked onto the soccer field, with my naivety and innocence and coach called me “Kay-jul”  instead of “Kah-jul” because it rhymed with another player, “Angel”; After nine, long, and weary years of correcting the American society I had given up; I had worked hard until then to remind others how to say my name, but I was tired.

My new identity was born out of convenience.

I still remember the first time I brought a friend home. She knew me as “Kay-jul”, she knew me as someone just like her. The only difference was I had brown skin. She didn’t know that I didn’t know who Jesus was and that my family didn’t eat turkey on Thanksgiving. Successfully, I had buried all parts Indian, and wore a disguise that allowed me to fit right in. I worried of her perception of a house that smelled like deep spices, covered in ornate pictures of holy deities. And I still remember when my mom heard her say my name the wrong way, and her eyes dropped. She didn’t say a word to me, but I could tell that her heart wept that night. Did my parents immigrate eight thousand miles for me to insult their culture with my embarrassment?

To this day, I introduce myself as “Kay-jul”. I justify it. I prefer it. I take ownership because somehow it’s my fault. Those who know how to say my name “the right way” question me, and those who can’t say my name still look confused and ask me to repeat myself even though I have tried to simplify it for you. When I first realized what had been done, I felt brainwashed by this society, I felt I lost a part of me that I never knew I felt so prideful towards. Don’t feel bad for me, and don’t pity me. I made my choice, and choose this identity everyday. The thing is though, only recently I was awoken to the idea that this is an EVOLVING identity.

Through the celebration of diversity and inclusion I have felt at this university, in this PA program, in this day and age, I have begun exploring my background. My identities as an able-bodied woman of color, as a first generation student, a child of two immigrants, ARE SO IMPORTANT. They are not single stories by any means, but they do help define my experiences.

Finally, I have attempted to balance my identities. Finally, I have learned to create a mix of American Indian.

But then, I met Sandrina. On the first day I met her, I called her Sandrine because everyone there called her Sandrine and it seemed like a simple nickname to absolve the last syllable. She was my assigned student, and I her tutor. Instead of diving right into our studies, I felt a desire to get to know her more than just a student.

 “Sandrine, is it?” I asked. This third grader shook her head ever so slightly and whispered with a recognizable weary tone, “No, it’s Sandrina”.

In that moment, I recalled my own experience. Sandrina, NOT SANDRINE. I made it a point to repeat her name about a dozen times in that short ninety-minute tutoring session, and for twelve weeks following I never made the mistake again.

This case extends to our position as peer advisors. Day after day, I see fresh faces stroll into our classroom; its as if looking in the mirror yet the only thing that is different is that I have had culminated my experience, and I am expected to share it.

You see this fine line exists. My responsibility lies in advising, but does it extend to mentorship and empowerment? The contract I signed when I was first selected did not explicitly state either of those duties. Leadership, in a sense, carries the duty to remind others of the importance of their individualism and the weight each of their identities plays in shaping them.

150 students, 12 sections, and 2 advisors later, my advice to you is this:

Often times, our oppressed identities take a toll, and we give up. REMEMBER who you are, EVERY SINGLE DAY and CELEBRATE THIS INDIVIDUALISM. REMEMBER WHY you chose this position. CELEBRATE THIS INDIVIDUALISM; don’t hold it back. Channel your passion into making a change in the classroom.

We must continue to empathize with our students. There will be students we do not like or we disagree with. We must refocus and STILL remind them of their capabilities and to never be afraid to be WHO THEY ARE. Our duties as peer advisors is to reinforce the importance of social justice within our classroom, our Loyola community, our Rogers Park neighborhood, and in the world. These qualities are imperative to peer advising and leadership.

Sandrina is a refugee. At the age of 5 she was forced to flee from her home in Africa because of a war. Don’t pity her. She is also an artist, always coloring pictures of her family and making cards for everyone at the service site. Sandrina is smart and loves math and numbers and wants to work with kids one day. She is more than each of these identities, but each of these identities elaborate on her experiences. As her mentor, I reminded her the importance of each of these.

I reminded her to never bury any part of her to fit in.

Her name is tied to who she is, and so is mine. I may still by “Kay-jul” but I recognize and celebrate my namesake, culture, and identities. By sharing my stories and guiding her, I hope Sandrina does too. I hope every student I work with does.

And for both of us it’s a fight we will have to fight our whole life. But in the end, it’s worth fighting for. I may be Kay-jul, but I am also Kah-jul, and Sandrina may be a refugee who was forced to flee her home, but she is still a bright, shining star full of hopes and dreams who will be EXACTLY WHO SHE WANTS TO BE.